


Why’d you leave me?

by orphan_account



Series: We can rule the SMP [2]
Category: Minecraft - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Jschlatt is salty Wilbur left him, M/M, Poor Tubbo, Some Physical Abuse, Unrequited Love, but not a lot, just a lot of mental and emotional, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jschlatt wakes up to an uncomfortably cold bed. Wilbur was no longer laying beside him, when he finds no trace of him in the mansion. He finds other ways to take out his anger...
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Series: We can rule the SMP [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020297
Comments: 7
Kudos: 105





	Why’d you leave me?

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate ending to my novel We Can Rule The SMP. 
> 
> I don’t respond well to peer pressure :((

Jschlatt woke up to a cold, empty bed. Wilbur was no longer laying in his arms to provide warmth. There was still a dip in the memory-foam mattress from where the brunette used to lay, meaning he didn’t get up to long ago. A smile crept onto his face at the thought of Wilbur in the kitchen, humming while he prepared breakfast for the two of them.

Neither of them were that great of cooks, but they both tried. Wether is something as simple as eggs. Or something more complicated, they always tried. Wilbur put his heart and soul into preparing food whenever he could. A sloppy, proud grin on his face every time he got it just right. Or the disappointed pout as they ended up ordering a pizza instead.

Schlatt rose from his previous state on the bed, taking a shirt from off the floor—was it his?—and pulling it over his head. He tugged on sweatpants and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. 

He didn’t smell the fresh aroma of food, and didn’t hear the sizzling of a pan, but he checked nonetheless. Schlatt was disappointed to see his lover wasn’t in the kitchen, pouting. He would have loved to see the tall man naked except for a cute apron covering him. He would love to see all the marks he had left the previous night, so proudly on display. He would love to loop his arms around that slim waist and leave many more at the expense of burnt food.

He moved on. 

What he checked next was Wilbur’s room. Sometimes he would come downstairs just to sleep in his own bed, or put on his own clothes instead of Schlatt’s oversized ones. He tapped softly with his knuckle before entering. When he opened the door, the words died in his throat. Wilbur wasn’t here either. 

Panic started to set in. He checked the whole mansion with no sign of the man. God, he even checked the office. The office he knew Wilbur hated so much. 

He wasn’t there.

He wasn’t anywhere.

He was gone. 

Schlatt turned around eagerly when he heard sound of light footsteps behind him, “Wilbur!” He said hopefully. The boy behind him was not Wilbur. For starters, he was almost five inches shorter than him. His brunette hair laid flat, instead of those beautiful curls. The boys eyes were a brilliant blue, that reminded Schlatt more of the deepest depths of the ocean rather than the clear sky. The boy in front of him, was not his Wilbur. 

“Schlatt?” Tubbo questioned awkwardly. Shrinking away from the presidents cold gaze. 

“Tubbo? Have you seen Wilbur?” Schlatt asked, his voice became gruff, cold, and critical. He knew Tubbo had been talking with Wilbur for the past few months. The boy had to know something about the brunette’s disappearance. 

Schlatt watched the shorter brunette’s eyes flicker to the ground as he tried to wrack his brain for any information. “Not since yesterday morning.” He said. 

The goat man gripped Tubbo’s pristine collar, lifting him up and slamming him into the wall without remorse. “Don’t fuck with me! You know where he is!” Schlatt yelled. The panic he felt had bubbled over into anger. He took out his rage on the poor boy. “You know where he is Tubbo! I know you do!” 

“I don’t! I don’t!” Tubbo said in a small voice. He was barley able to squeak out responses to Schlatt’s accusatory yelling. His ocean blue eyes were screwed shut, and his arms were over his face defensively. He was trapped in between the wall, and Schlatt’s body. He had where to go. 

Schlatt slapped away his arms, grabbing his jaw to make the shorter boy look at him. “Fuckin’ look at me when I’m speaking, you brat!” He demanded. Tubbo did his best to nod.

“What did you do to him? He wouldn’t leave me unless you forced him. You must’ve put some stupid idea in his head. You ruined it, you ruin everything like you always do! Wilbur was happy with me, and now he’s gone!” 

“He wasn’t!” Tubbo gasped out. Schlatt’s grip on his jaw loosened, allowing just the slightest bit of relief. 

“You’re wrong.” Schlatt hissed. 

“But I’m not! Wilbur told me yesterday!” Tubbo exclaimed, unable to bite back his responses any longer. Explanations tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “He said he wasn’t happy! I just....I didn’t know he was going to leave.” He let the half-truths fall from his mouth with fake empathy. Yes, he missed Wilbur too, but not in the same way Schlatt did. 

Tubbo missed the way Wilbur used to laugh and smile. He missed the was Wilbur used to crack jokes along with everyone else. He missed the Wilbur lead them to victory in the revolution, instead of the Wilbur that sat alone in his room, covered by mounds of blankets.

But Schlatt missed Wilbur as a possession. He missed the way Wilbur let him do what he wanted. He missed the Wilbur who followed him around without any protests. He missed the Wilbur that wasn’t the real Wilbur. 

Schlatt could feel the tears start to form on his waterline, but he willed them back. He would not try in front of a man as pathetic as Tubbo. He was better than that. “You’re wrong.” Schlatt said, softer this time. He was letting the realization sink in. 

“But I’m not.” 

A hand filtered through Schlatt’s messy chocolate brown hair, as he took a deep breath. He exhaled, composing himself in front of his right hand man. It was like a switch was flipped. He returned to being the man who had to run a nation, instead of the man who missed his lover. “Get back to work. Tell Quackity to cancel all my meetings.” Schlatt said. That stern, uncaring voice was back, and Tubbo ignored the way in cracked when he spoke. The younger nodded, and scurried away the moment he got the chance. 

Schlatt returned to his room down the hall. He let himself flop onto his bed, staring at the wall with teary, but unblinking eyes. At the bottom-most drawer of his nightstand, he pulled out a bottle of rye whiskey along with a glass cup. He had never been one for whiskey, but he supposed it would have to do. 

It was the only thing he could think of to keep his mind of his lover. His lover who left a dip in the mattress beside him. His lover who lied to him every time he said, ‘I love you.’ His lover who left him in the middle of the night.

Schlatt poured himself a glass of liquid courage and drank half of it in one swift sip. It burned as it went down, even for someone so traversed in alcohol like Schlatt. As he took another longing sip of the caramel liquid, he let his thoughts drift. 

Oh God Wilbur, why did you leave me?


End file.
